SO THE QUESTION IS, DO YOU FEEL LUCKY?
by Spirit Burner AKA Chick Feed
Summary: Dean is on an errand. 5 minutes stroll to the liquor store and 5 minutes back to the hotel where he and Sam were staying. Easy, no problem, why would there be?


_A.N. I don't own anything to do with the Supernatural series or characters, but if I did it would be great!_

_Dean is on an errand. Just a five minute stroll to the liquor store and a five minute stroll back to the hotel. Easy!_

**SO THE QUESTION IS, DO YOU FEEL LUCKY?**

Dean strolled along the sidewalk feeling content and relaxed for the first time in a long while. Their last case had been a walk in the park and, even better, it had paid well. So well, in fact, that he and Sam were currently booked into a proper hotel for a couple of nights. There was a game on TV tonight and Dean had just collected a six pack from the nearby liquor store. In his jacket pocket nestled a half bottle of whisky, not the usual cheap brand, but real whiskey all the way from Scotland. Added to all this, for once neither he nor Sam had come away from the hunt with any injuries. Well, aside from the bruise in the centre of Sam's forehead. Dean smiled to himself at the memory, "_What kind of idiot tries to head-butt a ghost that's standing in between you_ _and a solid wall?"_ Whilst Dean walked the five minutes to the local store, Sam was back at the hotel ordering up room service. Yup…things were pretty good right now for the Winchester brothers.

As Dean sauntered past the entrance to an alley way, his chilled mood immediately switched to high alert. He'd picked up a sound from the alley not unlike the beginnings of a scream being quickly silenced. He stopped to one side of the alley entrance and bent down, messing with his boot laces as he listened for any other noises. Sure enough he heard what sounded like the scrape of heeled shoes. The kind of noise made when the wearer is being dragged backwards, along with the muffled sounds of someone trying to call out whilst someone else had their hand clamped over the caller's mouth. As if to really push the point home to Dean, he made out a hissed threat,

"Scream again bitch an' I slice your throat. Got it?"

In resignation Dean quickly hid the six pack in the shadows against the alley wall. His hand automatically reached around to grab his gun from it's resting place tucked against his back in the waistband of his jeans, and found nothing. Dean cursed silently as he recalled leaving the weapon back at the hotel having no reason at all to expect trouble on his errand. He took a glance up and down the main street, no sign of any conveniently parked police patrol cars in the area. Dean shook his head, _"Figures." _He quickly patted various pockets, looking for any kind of weapon, finding nothing but the whisky, _"Come on man, think of something". _A hint of a smile began to form on his face and Dean set off walking down the alley, whistling cheerily and making no attempt to conceal himself.

Roughly half way down the alley, a figure stepped out of the shadows and blocked Dean's path. Dean judged the guy to be no more than between 18 or 20, the guy was also holding one hand up towards Dean. Dean spotted the play of light on the blade the youth was threatening him with,

"Quit the whistling dude. You ain't got no reason to feel happy no more."

Dean held both hands in the air, palms out, and tried to take a step back. The brick wall that suddenly seemed to have appeared behind Dean spoke,

"You not goin' nowhere till we got what we want. Move it."

The wall shoved Dean forward towards his friend with the knife. Dean raised his eyes toward Heaven as a third character appeared. This one was holding a terrified looking young woman with one arm wrapped around her shoulder, his hand clamped over her mouth. In his other hand he too held a knife and he was pushing it against the woman's neck, Dean could see a thin line of blood from where the blade had already pricked her skin.

Ignoring the three youths, Dean focused his attention on the young woman,

"Easy lady. Calm down. Everything's going to be fine."

The wall behind Dean sniggered,

"Hear that guys? It's gonna' be fine."

The wall laid a meaty hand on Dean's shoulder,

"You a funny guy, ain't yer?"

Dean didn't bother to answer, he simply shifted his stance slightly, grabbed the wall's wrist, bent his own body, moved one leg and pulled.

With a squawk of surprise the Wall was suddenly flying through the air to land with a solid _**whump**_ as his back connected with the hard floor. Wasting no time, Dean followed up with a vicious kick to the wall's face and a solid stamp on the wall's solar plexus. The wall lay still, eyes closed and blood flowing freely from his nose and mouth.

Dean turned an icy gaze toward the two remaining youths who were staring at their fallen companion open mouthed,

"I don't like people creeping up behind me."

The pair switched their attention back to Dean. Now, anyone at all with two brain cells to rub together would have taken one look at the cold, calculating expression on Dean's face along, with his steady gaze and they would have done the sensible thing. Had they an ounce of insight, they would have begun to run and they would have kept on running until they hit the next state. Clearly, this pair only had the one brain cell which they were having to share between themselves.

The youth holding on to the female spoke first,

"Don't you try any more of that stuff or I'll slice this bitch proper."

Seemingly boosted by his friend's threat, the second youth waved his knife in Dean's direction,

"Yeah pal. An' once he's done her, I'll do you".

Dean cocked his head slightly on one side, his gaze sweeping over both youths as if they were creatures which had just emerged from a swamp,

"Maybe you'd both like time to re-think that?"

The youths exchanged a confused glance. The youth facing off to Dean decided to take the initiative,

"Yeah? Why?"

Dean patted his jacket pocket, making sure the youths could see the outline of something in there. Both youths began to look a little more uncertain, initiative guy spoke, keeping his eyes on Dean's pocket,

"So? What you got there man?"

Dean smiled. Not his usual 100 watt charm offensive. Oh no, this was the smile of a predator. The slow smile of someone who is used to being in control and had absolutely no fear of the two punks facing him. Even the tone of Dean's voice now changed, sending out the message that he wasn't a man to make threats, he made promises,

"How about we play a guessing game? What is the one thing that you really, really wouldn't want me to have in my pocket? Me personally, given that I love this coat, I wouldn't want it to be, say, an ice cream cone that is currently melting and ruining the lining. But that's just me."

Both youths couldn't help but stare at Dean's pocket with Dean's hand now half inside it,

"I'm guessing that's **not** the very worst thing it could be as far as you two, with your little tooth pick knives, are concerned. Am I right?...Anyhow, it's up to you. You can either let go of the woman and leave now. Or you can stay and pray that it's just a melting raspberry ripple I'm holding. Tell you what. I'll give you a countdown from five whilst you make your minds up. If I get to zero and you two dicks are still here? Well…. You've had fair warning. Ready? Five…..four…three…two.."

The woman sagged to the floor as her assailants decided to err on the side of caution and fled, not even bothering to drag their unconscious friend with them. Dean quickly checked for any weapons on the unconscious man, finding non he turned his attention to the woman. He held his hand out, helping her to stand,

"Come on. Let's get you out of here and into a cab. Is there someone you can go to? A friend or someone?"

The woman sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand,

"Yes. My husband. He'll be at home. A cab would be good, thank you."

Dean kept a reassuring hold of the trembling woman as they headed out to the main street, with Dean remembering to retrieve his six pack on route. Whilst Dean kept his eye out for a cab, the woman looked up at him,

"Can….Can I ask? What **have** you got in that pocket?"

Dean grinned and produced the half bottle of whisky. The woman stared from the bottle to Dean and back to the bottle again,

"Good God! I thought you had a gun!"

Dean shook his head, still smiling,

"Nope. It was just me and Mr Johnnie Walker here. I think we make quite a good team really."

With the woman safely in a cab on her way home, her numerous thanks ringing in Dean's ears, Dean continued his walk towards the hotel, humming quietly to himself.

_Yup…things were pretty good right now for the_ _Winchester brothers._

**END**

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